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This is probably all to do with Donald Trump

SHROUD

Fool's mate fool's mort so early in the gameeye's water sting that this is all we getsand smashes spills from turned time glass. I metour death upon Samarra road. My namefrom under shroud bass spoke and yours as well.Thought we had years. Polite I offered seatThick cloth makes bones perspire in end-time heatDeath labours hard and honest and his smellMore blood and sweat than mausolean dust.This it? Above our heads the sky was redwith final fire. Suburban privet bledblack sap. High towers fell in gravel rust.Death took our hands the world what might have beenOur work undone we burned we ate the green.